gcdeater

[gcdeater]

something is wrong. like a slightly out of tune piano, the current aura surrounding the games felt peculiar. the victors have yet to step foot into the arena, and already does madge suspect that some underlying force would alter the games in ways they least expected. she clutches the charm of her necklace out of a habit, her free hand coiled self soothingly around her waist. it is her obligation as someone who’s never entered the arena, someone who never had a relative reaped (not including an aunt reaped prior to her conception), to remain composed and steadfast— a grounding presence for those around her. it is the least you can do, they remind themself, pleading with their heart to decelerate. 

the count down is replaced with a dull ringing that pervades all her senses. an unfortunate side effect of playing in an orchestra for so long— and one that seemed aggravated further by stressful situations. the crashing of a chair in a nearby room whisks her away from her anxieties. madge shudders in response, whirling on her heels to uncover the source of the noise. 

they are met with their dear friend peeta mallark, a reoccurring presence since their early childhood— and one of the few friends she maintained contact with after her departure to the captiol. their present condition is alarming. madge hurries to his side, eyes returning momentarily to the screen, and it abruptly dawns on her that there is a significant amount of tributes missing. katniss and peeta’s child, for one. she instinctively reaches for peeta and eventually retracts, not wanting to startle them further. compassion is woven throughout her composed demeanor. “you don’t have to apologize for having emotions,” madge insists. “how are your injuries. do you need medical attention?”

OPEN STARTER | capping at five ( 0 / 5 )

a sharp, ragged gasp is what slices through the air when they awake, feeling every bit as in pain as if they were the one to go back into the arena. it takes peeta a moment to remember the events that had occurred before waking, to remember why they can hear their heartbeat racing in their ears and why it hurts to take a deep breath, why there's sweat pooling on their forehead and why there's a deep, gut-wrenching panic that drives them out of bed despite wanting to rot away in it for however long it takes to stop feeling like this.

it's not unlike when he wakes from a nightmare, though it is when his first instinct is to reach over in bed for katniss that he fully realizes. it plays back in his mind - it was no nightmare, though it felt like one had come to life. dragged from her arms, watching with faded vision as she screams for him going up the tube and unable to reach him, unable to scream back, unable to do anything until there's a blunt force against his head that makes everything go black entirely.

peeta, by some unknown driving force, makes it to the nearest television, right when the bloodbath occurs. the cameras are everywhere, it's getting harder and harder to see who is who with all the panic and running. until he does see her, and then he can't not see her in every shot. but something's wrong - he's not there.

the blood in their veins runs ice cold and the lightheadedness swells behind their eyes, not realizing they've stumbled a bit and gripped onto the nearest chair with a white-knuckled grip. peeta tries, he tries, to take a deep breath, and another, and another, tries to level themself but none of it works. anger and remorse fill his veins and he isn't sure when the chair he gripped had ended up on the floor in his rage but his head is in his hands now, that much he knows. it was all for nothing - every single bit of it, every attempt to get them out. katniss - oh, what must she think? the worst, probably. that they've taken both her husband and her son from her - this makes them turn to the tv again, watching her in action, fear gripping at him entirely until the sound of someone approaching makes him jump. peeta looks around at the scene before him, wishes he could regain what semblance of composure he might have, but it's all stripped too thin. "sorry," they mumble. "i hadn't meant to make a scene."

#madge — all. #madge — peeta. #event — launch day.

[gcdeater]

mixing up the names of her tributes is likely her first major mishap. while she’s more than aware that there’s only two names she needed to remember, and that she had nearly a week to memorize them, it didn’t make the task any less burdensome. besides, if their chances at winning were anything along the lines of priscilla’s escorting abilities, then they’d likely be slated to die. still— she frames her dazzling features with a brilliant smile, assuring them that they’d perform excellently, and reminding she’d be cheering them on through it all. 

when the goodbyes are concluded, priscilla unlaces her facade ever so slightly, allocating her just enough room to finally relax. weariness afflicted her, a consequence of too much smiling. she saw little use in watching the countdown and instead retreated to the balcony to momentarily enjoy a cigarette. a nasty habit picked up at some point during her rebellious years, but one she made no effort to quit. a calm washes over her after the first few drags. her body is pressed against the balcony, overlooking the surrounding landscape.

the arrival of another person results in priscilla’s abrupt disposal of the cigarette, utterly unaware that it now occupies the hair of some unsuspecting victim below. it’s an involuntary reaction resulting from years of hiding the habit from her parents. she pivots on her heels, eager to put a face to the person before her. they’d better have been worth her cigarette. though not sure who she expected, it certainly wasn’t her. even worse, the woman looked rather ill, and priscilla hadn’t a caretaking bone in her body. so she’s keeps her distance. “alright, darling?” she asks with a saccharine look. 

a viewing party for opening day , someone else's place / savannah + open !

saying  goodbye  to  her  tributes  was  no  easy  feat  ,  district  six  seemingly  chained  to  her  like  a  lock  without  keys  .  each  step  they  took  further  away  that  morning  was  a  tug  on  her  heart  ,  a  subtle  beat  of  pain  to  replace  the  blood  pumping  through  her  veins  .  the  start  of  the  games  was  always  the  hardest  because  it  was  the  most  real  it’d  ever  get  for  savannah  .  once  they  were  in  the  arena  ,  the  scissors  were  always  nearby  to  cut  any  tether  connecting  her  to  them  ,  but  that  tether  was  more  complicated  now  .  she  had  to  worry  about  artemis  ,  watch  them  fight  for  their  lives  for  god  only  knew  how  long  .  and  she  preferred  solitude  at  this  time  ,  but  she’d  been  invited  to  a  viewing  party  .  who  was  she  to  decline  and  act  shady  on  the  day  that  mattered  the  most  ?

the  party  sickens  her  before  the  countdown  even  starts  ,  drink  in  hand  while  other  began  cheering  and  laughing  in  anticipation  around  her  .  the  dissociation  hits  momentarily  ,  briefly  ,  until  the  countdown  is  over  .  that’s  when  everything  became  muffled  around  her  ,  eyes  taking  note  of  the  fact  that  there  were  a  handful  of  tributes  missing  .  was  she  going  crazy  ?  shock  freezes  her  until  a  flash  of  artemis  comes  over  the  screen  and  the  drink  in  savannah’s  hand  is  set  aside  instantly  .  she  sneaks  away  ,  feeling  like  she  can’t  breathe  ,  and  pushes  the  doors  to  the  balcony  open  for  some  fresh  air  .  palms  meet  the  balustrade  ,  knuckles  shading  white  as  her  body  sways  ever  so  slightly  in  the  wind  .  savannah  found  herself  taking  a  seat  just  then  ,  legs  becoming  tucked  as  the  strange  silence  of  the  streets  clashed  with  the  deafened  chatter  from  the  party  inside  .

#priscilla — all. #priscilla — savannah. #event — opening day.

[gcdeater]

priam resists rolling his eyes. his cousin's priorities are intriguing, to say the least. it's difficult to blame him, when he's led a life that didn't require him to do anything otherwise. “hopefully the party is to your standard. we wouldn't want you to begin your duties on a sour note.” his cordial tone is intermingled with sarcasm he’s unable to resist. “i don’t know why i even asked.” seriously though, he’d known the answer long before the statement ever left his lips. well— if lucius so happened to wake up one morning with a spontaneous change of heart, then he’d hopefully be the first one to know. he’d focus on that instead of mulling over the  unnecessary space being used through his presence. “well, if you’re ever feeling especially generous, you know where to find me.”

"hey im always down for a delay. i hear there's a party tonight anyway. the last thing i need is to be stuck on gamemaker duty until the early hours of the morning like i will be every day for who knows how long." he scoffed at the next words, rolling his eyes. priam should have known him better than to think he was ever in search of ways to make himself useful. lucius had never been useful a day in his life why start now? "not really. unless it benefits me in some way, then i'll think about it."

#priam — all. #priam — lucius. #event — post failed launch.

[gcdeater]

As Adalina investigates the faces of her fellow victors, only a few faces manage to stick out from the rest. The majority belong to victors that began to blend together over time. Nearly forty years have passed since her own victory, after all— she could only keep up with the games for so long before they become unbearable. She’s bore witness to nearly a thousand children being ushered to their death— something that never grows easier with time. The promised numbness, a relief meant to come with time, never reaches her.  Not when Jamie and Zea would perpetually be at risk for the first eighteen years of their lives.    She watches the victors, knowing it could easily be her daughters in the near future. That is how the heedful mother, intent on safeguarding her children by any means necessary, winds up in the folds of the rebellion.  They could not be met with the same fate. 

Her gaze lingers on Jameson— on Jem, longer than she initially intended. Wistfulness briefly passes over her countenance before promptly being replaced with practiced stoicism. Stay alive, something within her commands. You don’t get to die on us just yet. Not while their daughter is in the arena alongside them. Adalina resumes her examination of the present victors when it dawns on her that she’s already successfully parsed through the sea of faces. That’s strange. Another once-over is given, and she’s met with the same results. The third and fourth inquests produce the same results— each further invoking alarm within the woman until she’s downright panicking. A desperate look is launched in Jem’s direction. Her daughter is not with her as planned— and she’s meant to process this newfound knowledge in tandem with Templesmith’s countdown. 

Rage surges through her. Staying alive becomes more imperative than ever. She remakes her anger into something akin to determination. At several points in Adalina’s life, she is faced with the same dilemma— persevere or die trying. Not a moment would be wasted in the pursuit of her daughter. The gong sounds, and Adalina is overtaken with the same vigor that propelled her through the last games. The platform is far behind her now, but Adalina isn’t running toward the weapons. Instead, she disguised herself in the snow and foliage, knowing that she was not likely to obtain a suitable weapon the traditional way. When an unsuspecting tribute walks into her path, snow is launched in their face before Adalina sweeps their legs from underneath them— using the distraction to wry the machete from their grasp. She decides not to push her luck— leaving the tribute where they were and continuing on her way. 

Some hours have passed, and still no sign of Zea. No sign of Jem since first entering the arena. Adalina astutely maneuvers through the snow, perpetually on the defense. The thunderous voice of an unknown woman fills her ears. Her words are painstakingly precise. While she wasn’t out for blood, she wouldn’t be victimized either. Adalina undeniably related to such a stance, which is why she ultimately risks revealing herself to a perfect stranger. “I don’t take kindly to commands from people half my age,” she warns, her machete slightly lowered as she approaches the woman from a comfortable distance.  “I’m no monster. Not even this godforsaken arena could turn me into something I’m not.” Her expression is appraising— it’s still undetermined if this was all some grand facade meant to end her life. “Adalina Chen. And to whom am I speaking with?”

WHO: Nilani Tippori & OPEN

WHERE: Somewhere into part of the forest, ( exact location unknown )

Had game makers taken a look at security footage of level three - seen the copious amount of notes and red string crossing from one edge of the common room to another? Had they known that Nilani, alongside Volt had figured it out and was that why there was a delay? Was it an invented reason to change the entire layout of an arena? No matter the questions that a brilliant and genius woman wanted to ask and snarl at the sky, seeing the slight glimmer or shielding far above too high to reach or shoot at it was fucking freezing. Nilani was cold, carrying a pack on her shoulders. There were two or was it three she had simply snagged along with the knives meant for her and the glorious spool of wire and various pieces of electrical equipment. None of it looked like it could make anything but Nilani's favor any of them could prove to be a needed conductor after all gold was highly conductive. Those things were rapidly stuffed in a bag and hands snatched and grabbed. The final thing she grabbed appeared to be bulky and Nilani had not opened it yet. It could be a tent, it could be climbing gear, it could be a gag and be a giant stuffed bunny - it could be helpful or a hindrance. Nilani cut through the snow as best as one could and while it made sense to move - to run towards warmth and the smell of the fire already set the District 3 member needed to find a safer place than the one they would all run to before linking up. Was there cause to believe rebels would save them in these moments? It was do or die and hypothetical saviors could not be relied upon in the moment when blood was on the snow.

In the thickness of a part of the forest, unsure if any had followed her, Nilani was trembling, teeth chatterings, and flickers of her mind already too cold forced the idea of the last time she felt warm. Cuddled and curled up in oodles of pillows and blankets that smelled like - no. Nilani could not think of softness, of someone she loved that was what could be considered a million miles away watching from a monitor making colorful commentary next to an overrated buffoon. Hita needed their sister. Hita would not know the howling of animals or the breaking of branches or even a loud approach, which made a victor sick with worry enough to shove the idea of the sun far from her. Setting down her packs, the large pack the rebel victor slipped to the sharpest knife. Things were set against a tree, and feeling an overwhelming sense of dread beyond the cold felt like a do-or-die moment. This could be the end and they'd barely made it through the first few hours. Brandishing it in her hand Nilani was aware beyond the knife something else was present with her and around her person. Sure there was the smell of blood, and that could have come from her or the knife that was wielded, but standing in ankle-deep snow staring in the direction of where instinct shouted at her to watch, she called. "I will not be merciful if you want to come at me. Now is your best chance, not sure if the blood is mine or someone else but step forward," Nilani growled, half to warn the approaching dread and half to hide how freezing cold she was. One arm was lifted to act as a block, and the sparkling instrument of death was gripped tightly, ready to drive home. "Fight me if you dare - I won't be hunted like prey. We're all monsters here so fight like one or say your name"

#adalina — all. #adalina — nilani. #event — the arena.

[gcdeater]

Lucy Liu for Elle Canada, Dec/Jan

#visage — adalina #she's everything...

[gcdeater]

little camera, huh? cressida’s eyes narrow in defense of their camera, resentful of the woman’s mischaracterization. they hadn’t been the one just walking into people’s shots all willy-nilly. there’s no mistaking the other— just as unsettling dewitt sister. (they are aware they’re are more, but these two commanded a special kind of fear. if they weren’t so intimidating, they might’ve made excellent film subjects.) “you’re the one who walked into my shot,” cressida grumbles. “but whatever— i’ve got more than enough footage. no thanks to you, of course.”

"excuse me?" the words leave her lips before she can help herself. if there was one thing the entire capitol had an abundance of, it was leech-like people crawling around searching for the best and quickest way to garner attention and have their moment. she herself had been one of those people once, though it wasn't necessarily hard for her to dig her hooks into the capitol the right way. it was eat or be eaten here and lilith had never been one to lie down and take it. so naturally, this is what lilith assumes is happening here, looking down at the person with a scrunched face in disgust. "you're in my space. take your little camera and shoot somewhere else."

#cressida — all. #cressida — lilith. #event — post failed launch.

[gcdeater]

Aurelius is the pinnacle of composure, the total antithesis to the disorder in his immediate surroundings. One of his several responsibilities as Chief Operating Officer was overseeing operations. Considering the disarray, there didn’t seem to be much good that could come from his supervision. Sure, the delayed launch certainly put a damper on things, but Aurelius knew better than to rush perfection.

He’s met with similar chaos in the lobby. Several parties appear to register Aurelius’s presence, but only one immediately captures his attention. It’s difficult not to, with her presently attached to his arm. CELESTIA DOOLITTLE is a welcomed reprieve from the bewildered masses. She’d been no stranger to scandal— the only difference is the Doolittle’s actually came with substantial consequences. Where most capitolites would disguise (and frequently poorly at that) their anxieties surrounding the delay, Celestia is forthright with her uncertainty. 

“Celestia.” A smirk now adorns his attractive features. It’s the sort of beauty that can only be obtained by someone who sleeps at least eight hours every night. “Wish I had a better answer for you, but I’ve been told everyone should just sit tight for now.” And that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world— for the present moment, at least. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to carry any bad vibes into relaunch, yeah?” He smiles. “It’s a shame such a nice outfit went to waste, though.” It’s difficult to tell whether he’s talking about Celestia or himself.   

ᴡʜᴏ: CELESTIA DOLITTLE & OPEN ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: TRIBUTE TOWER, LOBBY ᴡʜᴇɴ: DAY OF THE (FAILED) LAUNCH

Celestia was not having a good day. Her first thought upon noticing that the elevators weren't working this morning was that she had somehow messed up, which would have been very embarrassing. Once it became clear that the faulty technology actually had nothing to do with her ( yay! ) her second thought was that this delay would be kind of annoying for her. For one thing, she'd already picked out her outfit for the launch party she was attending tonight ( a very flattering hot pink slip dress and matching kitten heels, of course ). For another, this meant that she wouldn't be off the hook from the responsibilities that came with her job for another couple of days at least.

Usually the launch was the end of things for Celestia ( unless her tributes won... which had never actually happened, but maybe soon! ). She would take her tributes down to the basement, bid them farewell, and wait for them to die. She never really watched the games ( they were a tad too boring for her taste – ninety-five percent of the time nothing happened, and the other five percent was a little too gory ), so she would generally be informed that they'd died while she was out at some sort of games-adjacent party. She mourned, of course – sometimes even for a week – and always thought of something nice to say when she wrote home to the tributes' families, but the launch generally marked the end of her active involvement.

Truthfully, Celestia was a little confused as to what she was supposed to be doing now. She'd already done all of her little tasks before the games were supposed to start, and the parties she was supposed to be at right now had been postponed. Instead, she finds herself in the lobby of the tribute centre in her party outfit, sipping on a matching pink cocktail and waiting for somebody to tell her what she was supposed to be doing next. Thankfully, she spots a vaguely familiar face walking by and shuffles over to grab them by the arm. "So... like, do you know what we're supposed to be doing right now? Because usually someone, like, tells me what I'm supposed to be doing. And are we going to get new outfits for when they re-do the launch, because I feel like my one has been spoiled and I really hate repeating outfits, you know?"

#aurelius — all. #aurelius — celestia. #event — post failed launch. #please

[gcdeater]

“Yeah? Who’s asking?” they retort moments before looking up.

Well shit. They groan internally, a groan that verges on becoming external. Cressida knows better. They were better off throwing in the towel now— there’d been no way anything would get done in the presence of DELILAH RIPLEY. Any inspiration they once possessed evaporated with Delilah’s arrival— an unfortunate casualty of the politician’s proverbial hellfire.

“Yeah,” she says again, more matter of factly this time. Not an outright lie— for while Cressida may not have had permission, they hadn’t been told not to film either. “Not on me, though. Left my permission slip in my other camera bag.” They shrug.

"Excuse me?" Delilah turns on her heel to better face the distraction. The tower was a mess – people running around like headless chickens and nobody with enough presence of mind to tell her exactly what had gone wrong and whose fault it was. Getting her head around what had actually happened was the first step in being able to twist the story to suit her needs – something about the insurgents trying and failing to destroy systems that had been in place for decades for no reason other than to cause anarchy. Yeah – that would work.

She's talking to one of the hapless escorts when she is rudely interrupted, and whatever conversation she had been engaged in is quickly forgotten. "Do you have permission to film in here?"

#cressida — all. #cressida — delilah. #event — post failed launch. #they’re kinda dumb actually

[gcdeater]

“you aren’t wrong. it makes you great for filming.” their words are declared a matter of factly, and while they unknowingly took on the form of a compliment, cressida’s words are stated purely in artistic observation. it’s one of her oldest habits— blurring the line between filmmaking and everyday life, which carried over to interpersonal relationships. lydia is different though. she’s a co-worker, a muse, and a friend all in one. still, this overlap only increased the potential for blurring.

they look to lydia, and for a moment, they’re sure there’s something else behind her smiling expression— something they aren’t sure they presently have the answer for. they look back to the camera, examining the frame thoughtfully. “not on duty— just testing a few things out mostly.” they look again to lydia, mulling over a few ideas. “distracting, but never annoying. maybe you’ll even be able to help.”

she is watching , dark eyes scanning the room with an intensity so foreign to lydia dorame ; known airhead , self absorbed queen of the silver screen . it was once an easy disguise to wear , but self awareness has fought past those whimsical defences and stripped her bare . look at her now , heart pounding beneath a gauzy white dress , wandering the lobby as a confused sponsor and smiling for the cameras which capture the starlet — hungry as ever .

their voice reaches her , travels up the knots in her lengthy spine and forces a shiver . a familiar , calming presence , and lydia whirls with a grin to face them . there is something in her eyes which she is sure cressida can spot , an unsureness , a weariness that something large is coming for them . " impossible , i have no bad angles . " she breezes free of their lens , moving instead to stand beside them , glancing towards whatever it was they were capturing . " are you on duty or am i allowed to annoy you ? "

#cressida — all. #cressida — lydia. #event — post failed launch. #heehee

[gcdeater]

when he fails to locate gill amongst the other tributes, a feeling of dread permeates through him. something is wrong. this would be a different sort of game than the one won nearly thirty years ago. during this game, the full extent of the stakes remains undisclosed.  he bites back his frustration bitterly, knowing finding gill meant staying alive first. templesmith’s counting is sobering enough.  as the numbers creep closer to one, finnick is overwhelmed with the beginnings and endings contained in the countdown’s conclusion. the beginning of the games. the potential end of annie’s world. 

the gong sounds and finnick is pried from the dark chasm of his thoughts. the snow becomes something else to weigh him down, nothing unlike its human, capitolite counterpart. still, years of deep water running prepares him for this very moment. the cornucopia inches closer, and he manages the retrieve the closest thing he could find to a trident— a long silver spear. with the weapon in hand, he knows what he must do next.

katniss. peeta’s token is tucked tightly into his pocket as he races after her. when finnick finally comes across her, he finds himself surprised by how quickly she’s able to mount an arrow directly in his face. “everdeen. fancy seeing you here,” he says, teeth slightly chattering from the cold air, holding up his hands, and dropping the spear next to him for good measure. it left him vulnerable, but this would not be a game survived playing safe.  “think you’ll be familiar with the handiwork.” he holds up the wooden mockingjay charm between his fingers. “team up with me. beyond it being a brilliant plan, the cameras would love it.” sponsors would love it. he looks at her expectedly, attempting to predict any potential reactions. 

closed to @gcdeater . the arena , cornucopia .

katniss is shaking as she is rises into the arena , chest pumping with adrenaline , and with terror as peeta is dragged out of the launch room , battered and blue . it's clear what they have done as her braid whips against her cheek , the wind howling in her ears , chest concaving with vicious sobs , and she cannot for one moment focus on the arena . she can see nothing but her husband beaten by peacekeepers , then taken off to who knows where , nothing more than a message sent her way .

claudius templesmith is counting down , and katniss attempts to pull herself together , to remind herself that this is life or death — and when she can't find rye , her knees near buckle , but she holds herself together . there is nothing to be surprised by in panem any more , and besides if he isn't here , it can't be so terrible . i'll find him , she reminds herself . but for now she must remain alive , and those instincts which have gotten her to her thirty sixth year kick in .

the gong rings , and she runs , darting through the snow as best she can . she's used to a rough winter in twelve , more than used to the pain of hunting in the depths of december , but katniss has never known anything like this . her fingers are around the bow when her senses pick it up , the arrival of another ; she spins , arrow notched , and is met with the face of finnick odair .

#finnick — all. #finnick — katniss. #finnick — arena. #YUPPPP

[gcdeater]

Gugu Mbatha-Raw photographed by Austin Hargrave for High Life Magazine (2020)

#visage — madge #a good woman

[gcdeater]

IN ANOTHER LIFETIME, IT IS LIVINIA SEATED UPON THE THRONE, SELECTED RIGHTFULLY BY THEIR FATHER BASED ON CAPABILITY AND MERIT. 

Not in this life, though. In this lifetime, it’s Aurelius with the dumb luck of gender and birth order, alongside a kilowatt smile and the charisma to match. Even when the scale isn’t tipped in his favor— he’s proven how effortlessly it could be shifted. His fall from grace and swift reascension is proof of such. In Aurelius’s absence, Auggie has no choice but to sit at the center of the universe. Considering his hasty departure from the public eye, it’s not as if he’d left them with any other options. Sure, perhaps she’d eventually rise to the task, a makeshift earth for the other planets to revolve around— but Aurelius, the golden one, remained the sun. He’s grateful someone kept the proverbial throne warm, nonetheless. 

As Livinia attempts to storm past him, managing to storm into him instead, Aurelius appraises the present condition of his sister. Nothing like her usual self— that was for sure. She’d likely been succumbing to the pressure on the launch, its varying delays, and planning Rhea’s funeral (something he assumes neither Auggie nor Max's participated in, for she’d been too prideful to ask, and they’d been too useless to volunteer.) He’s unaccustomed to seeing her this way. Hell, the majority of the world was. It’s the price of being the perfect sibling— working within a minute margin of error.

“Woah, Livi,” Aurelius says, throwing up his hands in mock defense. “Take a chill pill. And watch the suit, will you?” He’d only had it steamed and tailored a few days ago. He didn’t need his sister’s bad vibe-inducing wrinkles fucking with his image. “Who are you actually mad at right now? Since I know it isn’t me.” He smiles broadly, his tone infuriatingly tranquil. 

ᴡʜᴏ: LIVINIA CRANE & OPEN ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: TRIBUTE TOWER, LOBBY ᴡʜᴇɴ: DAY OF THE (PROPER) LAUNCH

Livinia could not hide the fact that she was on edge. She wasn't sure whether she had sat down for more than thirty consecutive seconds since the failed games launch yesterday. She certainly hadn't slept. She'd spent nearly forty-eight straight in the control room, trying to fix the mess that she now found herself in. This was shaping up to be perhaps one of the longest and most continuously awful weeks of her life, but, she had assured herself that she would feel better once the launch actually happened and the tributes were in the arena.

And she had, for a minute. After staying up all night working on fixing everything that had gone wrong and ensuring that safeguards were firmly in place to make certain it wouldn't happen again, the tributes were in the arena. She could see them on her screen, turning against one another and starting the bloodbath in typical, brutal, violent fashion. For a minute, as the countdown hit zero and the games began without any further hitches, Livinia felt relief wash over her.

It was quickly replaced by exhaustion, irritation, and the overwhelming feeling of impending doom that so often accompanied sleep deprivation. Only a couple of hours into the games, she is sent away by her supervisor to "try and get some rest" ( he'd said it with false sincerity – playing pretend at caring about Livinia's wellbeing, rather than reacting to the fact that she had just spent five minutes screaming at an apprentice for reading out some incorrect data to her ).

It was bullshit, because she didn't need rest any more than anybody else in that room, but Livinia had swallowed her pride and agreed to take her break when her supervisor's expression makes it clear that this was not a request. She's paying very little attention to where she's going as she heads back to her apartment in the tower, rubbing at her bleary eyes – and so, maybe it's her fault when she collides headfirst into an oncoming person. Maybe, but she sure as hell isn't going to take accountability for it. "Fuck," She curses – perhaps a little more aggressively than she would have, had she slept at all in the past week. "Watch where you're fucking going."

#aurelius — all. #aurelius — livinia. #help....

[gcdeater]

𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕, 𝒊 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒚 𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔. 𝒊 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒐.

lucy liu . cis woman . she/her ➶ DID YOU SEE THEM ?! they’re finally back as a MENTOR , and you know they’re one of my favourites ! it’s ADALINA CHEN , the FIFTY year old WINNER of the FIFTY-EIGHT hunger games! i’m just so excited to see them returning to the capitol all the way from DISTRICT NINE ! they won their games using SICKLE / PLANT KNOWLEDGE so their tributes will no doubt be desperate for their wisdom. the capitol just loved them for being so PERSEVERING , even if they have been known to be SECRETIVE at times. they DO have a relative in this years games ( daughter ) and they DID volunteer to go into the arena with them . ( character IS part of the uprising )  

STATS

name: adalina chen birthday: september 9th zodiac: virgo sun, pisces moon, taurus rising gender: cis-woman pronouns: she/her orientation: bisexual biromantic occupation: mentor district: nine family: layla chen (mother), miller chen (father) †, cybele chen (sister) †, amira chen (sister), reuben chen (brother), jamie chen (daughter), zea chen (daughter), jem hutch (estranged baby daddy) faceclaim: lucy liu

PERSONALITY

positive traits: adaptable, level-headed, responsible, considerate, stoic, witty negative traits: assertive, coarse, impatient, strict, stubborn, skeptical moral alignment: lawful good mbti: intj (the architect) enneagram: 6 (the loyalist) temperament: melancholic deadly sin: pride heavenly virtue: diligence parallels: nani pelekai (lilo & stitch), nynaeve al’meara (wheel of time), calvin’s mom (calvin & hobbes)

BACKGROUND

LONG BEFORE SHE EVER LEARNS TO READ OR WRITE, ADALINA LEARNS TO WEILD A SICKLE. if you were old enough to walk, then you were old enough to work— this was the golden rule of the chen household. even before she acquires the skill to properly wield the tool, she’s out in the wheat fields alongside her parents and siblings, transferring the fallen wheat to its designated place.

she spends a significant amount of time avoiding her designated tasks, instead using her time to entertain herself. when you’re as young and fun-starved as she was, the endless wheat fields become the perfect playground. she always ends up caught after some time— but she savors each moment of freedom.

to think that one day she’d wind up being the sibling to retrieve her own younger siblings. adalina is youthful until she isn’t. ask her younger siblings, and they’ll explain that they one day woke up to a grandmother in a teenager’s body. she becomes the spitting image of her own mom, directing her younger siblings in the same way, ensuring that the familial harvests were are prosperous as possible.

even when they bickered, they still remained a familial unit. when her younger sister is reaped, it devastates the family. she’d only been twelve, and her family had done their best to limit the use of tesserae. still, they were unable to avoid this possibility. adalina knows what she needs to do. she promptly raises her hand, volunteering on her sister’s behalf.

(arena lore coming soon…)

she never becomes the darling victor the capitol hoped her. she’s just as rough around the edges as she was before the game, preferring a life as far outside of the public eye as possible. its when she’s begun settling down in the victor’s village that she meets him— the man responsible for rerouting her world. she loves him, adores him even— to the point that it must all be kept a secret, lest the capitol decides to exploit their dynamic.

it’s simply no way for a family to live. wholly in hiding, and without him being able to see his child without risk of the information falling into the wrong hands. eventually, they go their separate ways, with adalina returning home to reunite with her family, and to welcome her second child into the world.

she makes a living, raises her daughters, and never truly stops missing him. she puts on a brave face, rarely letting anyone in on her genuine emotions.

when her daughter is reaped, it all comes flooding back; no longer can adalina avoid reckoning with the events of her past. just like the first time, adalina raises her hand to volunteer without hesitation. she’d continue to do so, as many times as it would take

it’s one of her daughters that gets her wrapped up in rebel activity. while you preferred to remain on the sidelines for these sorts of things, there’s no ignoring the injustices her family and many others continued to face.

FUN FACTS

adalina was 100% the mom friend long before she became an actual mom.

her vibes are like well intentioned grumpy farmer man. stay out her way but also did you eat…

she has two daughters, zea and jamie, whose names are subject to change if anyone is interested in playing them. (;

prefers to keep her head down and go with the flow of things, something that’s become increasingly difficult as of late.

CONNECTIONS

daughters please daughters please / childhood friends and current friends / she’s 50 so ik she tried to date at least one person despite never really ever getting over jem (she’s an earth sign she never lets go) / pseudo children that became her children b/c she eventually just parented them so many times they couldn’t deny it anymore / someone she’s extremely suspicious of

#intro / adalina #LAST ONE BAYBEE

[gcdeater]

𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕-𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈-𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅

gugu mbatha raw . demi-woman . she / they ➶ I RECOGNISE THAT FACE ! that’s MADGE UNDERSEE , the THIRTY-SIX year old GRAND PIANIST/VOLUNTEER MEDIC from DISTRICT TWELVE . they’ve been in the capitol around TEN YEARS , long enough to gain a reputation for being so lionhearted & paranoid . they’re so lucky getting to live in the tribute center for the duration of the games! ( character IS part of the uprising )

STATS

name: madge undersee birthday: july 14th zodiac: cancer sun, pisces moon, taurus rising gender: demi-woman pronouns: she/they orientation: pansexual panromantic occupation: grand pianist/volunteer medic district: twelve family: dianthus undersee (father), nicoletta undersee (mother) faceclaim: gugu mbatha-raw

PERSONALITY

positive traits: amiable, compassionate, courageous, curious, hardworking, idealistic, perceptive, sentimental negative traits: mannered, opinionated, paranoid, presumptuous, quirky, sheltered, secretive, possessive moral alignment: neutral good mbti: infj-a (the advocate) enneagram: 1 (the reformer) temperament: phlegmatic deadly sin: envy heavenly virtue: charity parallels: eliza hamilton (hamilton), belle (beauty & the beast), rachel chu (crazy rich asians)

BACKGROUND

IN THE STREETS OF DISTRICT TWELVE, MADGE UNDERSEE STICKS OUT FOR ALL THE WRONG REASONS. her dresses, always beautiful, are always a tad too new. she never learns what it means to go hungry. when it’s time to sign up for tesserae, madge’s family never does so. always the precocious child, madge asks her father, mayor undersee, why she couldn’t opt-in and donate the rationing to someone who needed it more. he informs her of the stakes, and she is wholly unfazed. ensuring someone else could eat, at the risk of entering the arena, appeared a small price to pay. 

mayor undersee’s gaze darkens. to think she saw so little value in her own life. she was of his blood, and her brazen attempt to throw away her life becomes a slight against himself. after all, he and his wife had done to ensure she never be met with hardship. when he storms off wordlessly, madge is made to piece together her wrongdoing through her father’s silence. 

friends come and go easier than expected. madge is kind, but she’s somewhat eccentric. her interests frequently deviated from that of her peers, which became the most notable amidst conversation. madge, who knew little outside the confines of the undersee household and the piano lessons she frequented, was nowhere near the conversationalist most would’ve expected from her. still, she welcomes each and every friend.

it takes several failing friendships for madge to realize that there is a flaw in her friendship philosophy. she realizes that those select few people would only desire association based on her name alone. that was no way to sustain a friendship, and they tended to fizzle out one way or another. the people she often considered her friends most likely didn’t realize how dear they were to her. you could care about people from arm’s length.

when katniss volunteers, madge is reminded of their shared lunch table. she’d noticed her sitting alone one day. next thing she knows, she’s sitting diagonally from her— her other table mates watching her perplexedly. no words are exchanged beyond awkward first greetings, but madge knows there’s something about the girl she likes. it’s why when the time arrives, madge relinquishes her aunt’s mockingjay pin, insisting that she wear it in the arena— meant to serve as a symbol of district twelve.

when rumor of rebel activity begins circulating, mayor undersee becomes increasingly suspicious of his only daughter. while she tended to walk the straight and narrow, she’d proven on more than one occasion that a bleeding heart often led her to trouble. she’d have no particular interest in leaving home, but mayor undersee arranges for her to attend music school in the capitol.  she’s somewhere far away from the rebellious district. 

when she graduates, she lands (though she suspects this was also arranged by her father) a position in one of the top orchestra companies as a grand pianist. madge is ethereal when she plays, giving into the piano’s every whim. still, it's no secret that her talent surpasses her interest. she possessed the notoriety and accolades, but her heart wasn’t really in it. it’s during a visit home that madge stumbles across rebel activity without realizing so. it’s almost immediately that she knows what she needs to do.

madge abruptly abandons her career as a grand pianist. to the outside world, she’s merely taking a hiatus to find herself, to perform with the same vivacity as she once did. she begins training as a volunteer medic— a position of her own choosing (a freedom she’s unaccustomed to.) there are faces she recognizes, faces she recognizes in a way she didn’t before— with the newfound knowledge of what they’re all working toward. 

FUN FACTS

madge has a ten year old calico cat named sweetheart. she adopted her while working in the symphony, wanting company in her quiet studio apartment.

while she and her parents are on good terms, they were never particularly close to begin with, as if there was immediate distance between them the moment she's born.

despite her father being the one to insist on her playing piano, madge has always held a special appreciation for music.

training as a medic makes her feel differently, though. she feels fulfilled in a way the music never made her.

CONNECTIONS

childhood friends/acquaintances / people she came across while working in the capitol / fellow district 12 rebel friends / teenage romance prior her attending music school / other people she's played music with / someone who rubbed her the wrong way / a friend who winds up betraying her in the end

#intro / madge #yup

[gcdeater]

#visage — aurelius #bc this is the hair he has

[gcdeater]

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈— 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉.

glen powell . cis man . he/him ➶ I RECOGNISE THAT FACE ! that’s AURELIUS CRANE , the THIRTY-FOUR year old C.O.O. @ CTN from THE CAPITOL . they’ve been in the capitol HIS WHOLE LIFE , long enough to gain a reputation for being so AMBITIOUS & RUTHLESS . they’re so lucky getting to live in the tribute center for the duration of the games! ( character ISN’T part of the uprising ) 

STATS

name: aurelius crane birthday: january 17th zodiac: capricorn sun, aries moon, libra rising gender: cis-man pronouns: he/him orientation: bisexual biromantic occupation: c.o.o. at c.t.n. district: capitol family: augustus crane sr. (father) penelope crane (mother) ☠, rhea crane (stepmother) ☠, auggie crane (younger sibling), livinia crane (younger sister), maxim crane (younger brother), priam plinth (brother-in-law) faceclaim: glen powell

PERSONALITY

positive traits: ambitious, charismatic, pragmatic, clever, witty, persuasive, steadfast negative traits: crafty, aloof, cruel, apathetic, ruthless, calculating, greedy, dishonest, self-centered, obnoxious moral alignment: lawful evil mbti: entj (the commander) enneagram: 8 (the challenger) temperament: choleric deadly sin: lust heavenly virtue: patience parallels: mr. wickham (pride & prejudice), light yagami (death note), jeff winger (community)

BACKGROUND

tw: addiction, terminal illness, death

THE FIRST CRANE SON IS BORN, AND ALREADY HAS INHERITED THE ENTIRETY OF AN EMPIRE. aurelius, they call him. the golden one, named after the roman general marcus aurelius. the union between augustus and penelope crane is unrivaled— rarely did a pairing between two wealthy capitolite families result in genuine love. augustus crane adores his wife, just as he adores the princeling they’ve created. together, they’d watch their son usher in a new era of an empire.

at least, that was what they intended to do. it’s not long before the young mother is plagued by an incurable illness. augustus crane expends nearly every penny available on experimental procedures if only to slightly increase the already impossible odds of her survival. aurelius, too young to understand the implications of his mother’s demise, watches on alongside his overbearing nannies and tutors. 

the crane queen is dead. there is little warmth left to fill the crisp, hard-hearted hallways left in penelope’s wake. something within augustus shifts forever more. there is no returning to the person he was before losing his beloved. even when he eventually remarries the woman that would bear him three more children, he regards them differently and is brazen in his demonstration.

aurelius, the only son bore by his true love, is elevated through his father’s withstanding undying adulation for his dead mother. his insistence on holding on to her elevates her to something of a saint in the crane household. unlike the living family members, penelope crane could do no wrong; in turn, neither could her darling princeling. 

the preferential treatment is almost laughable. a better man would’ve taken pity on his siblings. instead, he exploits such disparities at every given moment.

auggie, doomed to the position of second born, is perhaps the most difficult to understand. the unpredictability, perhaps stemming from some middle childhood syndrome, is something he’s never quite been able to grasp. she’s perhaps the least receptive to aurelius, and thus the sibling he deems least worthy of his attention. she would destroy herself a thousand times over— his aiding in such destruction would likely be unnecessary. 

livinia, whose potential is perpetually quashed through their father’s withstanding attachment to the patriarchal family structure, is constantly shortchanged and overlooked for positions she rightfully earned— something aurelius reminds her of at any given moment, if only to reassure her that he continues to remain on her side. 

by the time maxim, the youngest crane is born, little attention is left to afford him. there is little reason for augustus sr. to invest himself in his son's upbringing, not when an heir already exists. maxim, the most similar to aurelius of all, is easy to keep at bay and on a proverbial leash. he tosses him affirmations like wayward bones, only ever enough to keep him in an unending state of hopefulness. 

it’s not long before aurelius begins experimenting with his own infallibility. with the ample room for mistakes afforded him, there is a ripe opportunity to explore such. he’s in his mid-twenties when he takes an interest in the capitolite party scene. it doesn’t get in the way of his duties at first, but when it eventually does, a new tension is introduced into the folds of the crane family. how capable, really, is the firstborn heir? 

still, even as aurelius begins spiraling, augustus sr. would allow no ill word to be spoken out against his firstborn son. where his siblings may have been disowned, augustus sr. instead pleads. return to him his beloved heir. an heir not soiled through the continuous pursuit of hedonism. his pleas go unanswered— aurelius is too far gone to be reached. 

when aurelius nearly overdoses, some part of him understands enough is enough. measures are taken to ensure such knowledge never reaches the general public. some parties are bribed, others are ushered into exile. he is in no position to remain heir, and the second born is coaxed into filling his absence. if he could not have aurelius as an heir, he would at least have him as a son. just as resources were once poured into his mother’s treatment, augustus sr. spares no expense for his treatment. he already lost his wife, and he would not lose his son too.

several years pass, and aurelius eventually begins taking on the shape of his former self. there is little work for him to do— not when augustus sr. would stop the time if it meant restoring him to his former position. he’d be lying if he said his return to his father’s good graces wasn’t terribly easy. he never really did leave them, after all. it’s as if what little grace augustus sr. has to offer is wholly poured into his only— into his firstborn son. 

still, he realizes how comfortable his siblings have grown in his absence. they’ve long entertained the potential of a world he wasn’t in.

never mind that, though. AURELIUS CRANE has returned to c.t.n. with a vengeance, newly anointed in the position of c.o.o. as the rumors begin circulating around the office— many are left wondering if this stint in rehab would be his last. aurelius reassures them, with a cocksure grin that could only come from years of little to no consequences for his actions, that he is here to stay this time. 

and even if he wasn’t, there would always be a place for him to return. he has no reason to shy away from his past. not when augustus sr. has made it abundantly clear that the playing field is not leveled. there would always be ample room to make mistakes. to think one man’s attachment to an outdated system would be enough for him to continually fuck himself over in the name of some dead man’s tradition. his father has always been a fool— and aurelius would continue to reap the benefits of such absurdity. 

FUN FACTS

there’s a reason the first born crane doesn’t share a name with his father. his mother insisted on him having a name of his own, one with its own unique meaning. augustus sr. agrees out of love for his wife.

aurelius is notorious for the parties he once threw in the capitol. he doesn’t mind revisiting his past, but let it be known that he is on the straight and narrow now.

while his father and stepmother would like aurelius to be married, it’s not something required or expected of him. unlike livinia, aurelius isn’t required to have a pet husband in order to warrant respect within the company. (but hey, livinia could probably use someone to reach things off the top shelf, and priam surely fit the bill.) he prefers playing the field, at the moment.

the eldest crane, and his siblings worst nightmare. not because of how he treats them, but because augustus sr. favors him, and is unabashed in his reminding them of such.

CONNECTIONS

people he used to party with / exes / enemies / hookups / unrequited affection / people he’s fucked over to get ahead / coworkers @ c.t.n. / capitolites who run in similar circles / an assistant / an ex-fiancé / “friends” / a lure back into his old lifestyle

#intro / aurelius #nightmare crane just dropped #long story short: he's the fav crane the cool crane the effortless crane and after some time away to clean up his act he's back baby xo

[gcdeater]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒕 𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉.

simone ashley . cis-woman . she/her ➶ I RECOGNISE THAT FACE! that’s PRISCILLA HIGHBOTTOM , the THIRTY-ONE year old SOCIALITE from THE CAPITOL . they’ve been in the capitol THEIR ENTIRE LIFE , long enough to gain a reputation for being so AMIABLE & MANIPULATIVE . they’re so lucky getting to live in the tribute center for the duration of the games! ( character ISN’T part of the uprising )

STATS

name: priscilla highbottom birthday: june 11th zodiac: gemini sun, sagitarrius moon, capricorn rising gender: cis-woman pronouns: she/her orientation: lesbian occupation: socialite district: capitol family: juno highbottom (mother), virgil highbottom (father), dulce highbottom (sibling), aloysius highbottom (cousin) faceclaim: simone ashley

PERSONALITY

positive traits: adaptable, charismatic, eloquent, meticulous, sociable negative traits: apathetic, calculating, deceitful, dogmatic, egocentric, haughty, insincere moral alignment: true neutral mbti: entj-a (the commander) enneagram: 8 (the challenger) temperament: choleric deadly sin: greed heavenly virtue: diligence parallels: madelyn stillwell (the boys), blair waldorf (gossip girl), regina george (mean girls)

BACKGROUND

priscilla is introduced to the stakes of perfection at a young age. the firstborn daughter of juno and virgil highbottom is everything the capitolite couple could’ve asked for— the perfect addition to an already immaculate familial image. she becomes a beautiful, malleable doll for her parents shaping. she rises to the task, internalizing  their every value. the perfect heir and even more perfect soldier.

with a path already laid out before her conception, there is little for priscilla to do outside of following along her predetermined path. there is little opportunity to develop an identity outside of her parents’ expectations, something she never minds in her early childhood. it’s not until her late teens that she begins yearning for something more.

what exactly did more mean, exactly? this is the question priscilla is plagued with. desperately she craves something to call her own. something within her control— a place where her parents influence could not reach her. what better way to accomplish such than by posing as a rebel?

sure, there were hobbies she could’ve pursued and a plethora of rebellious actions she could’ve taken that were less risky than actually joining a rebellion, but this wouldn’t suffice. priscilla, constantly swept up by melodrama and grand gestures, must choose the most drastic path.

it’s not long before she stumbles upon a particular district twelve healer— a beautiful girl, who radiated warmth in a way unheard of in her own life, and the two fall quickly in love. or so it seems.

you see, it’s through prim did priscilla sees an opportunity. she remains by her side, there to absorb every detail of her bleeding heart, using insider knowledge to undermine the district’s rebellion from within.

if you ask priscilla, she’ll say that was always her intention. that she never felt anything for prim, and that she was merely another pawn in one of her schemes. as if she’d ever genuinely consider siding with the rebels. it’s laughable, really.

this answer is nearly enough for her parents upon her eventual return home. not without some stipulations, though. to fully return to their good graces, she must remain on the straight and narrow. more specifically, she needed to get a job as an escort. after attempting to bribe her way into district one, she winds up in district seven, to her dismay. 

she won’t let on to her discomfort, in the same way she masks any genuine emotion she has in favor of a polished, perfect counterpart. though it’s evident to many that something darker lurks beneath.

FUN FACTS

extremely fake. do not trust her.

has a nose ring and four ear piercings along each ear.

is a notorious gossip. if you ask her, though, she'll simply say she enjoys the free flow of information.

CONNECTIONS

a fake ass friend group / a relationship for pr purposes / district 12 rebels that know she's a snake bich / enemies / frenemies / hookups

#intro / priscilla #oop finally did it